


Moving On From The Light.

by Ultra_chrome



Category: due South
Genre: Angst, F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-12-18
Updated: 2011-12-18
Packaged: 2017-10-27 11:49:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,012
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/295527
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ultra_chrome/pseuds/Ultra_chrome
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kowalski is trying not to think about what he's lost. And then he gets a visit from someone who has lost the same things.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Moving On From The Light.

**Author's Note:**

  * For [exbex](https://archiveofourown.org/users/exbex/gifts).



> Merry Christmas exbex.
> 
> With Love and Best Wishes,
> 
> From Me.
> 
> P.S. I want to thank my truly amazing Beta Person, Heartofdavid. She saved the furniture and Ray V's lips and my sanity. For which I am eternally grateful.  
> \--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Stella was the light, the sunshine in his life. Right from the moment he first saw her, all shining blonde hair and sparkly blue eyes. And the smile. That was a smile he’d do anything to see directed at him.

The first time she’d _really_ smiled at him something had changed. Everything suddenly looked brighter and he’d felt warm and kind of weak and gooey all over, like the first real summer day had just draped itself over him and maybe melted his knees just a tiny bit. Right away he’d decided he’d do anything to make her his. Whatever it took.

Back then his life had been simple and defined. There was the part when he was wasn’t with Stella and the part when he was; kinda like night and day. Stella chased away the darkness in him.

These days he didn’t have a light to chase anything away. Stella had long since left and Fraser... well, he’d been like a candle. It had seemed bright at first, coming in the blackness after Stella left, but it only just kept the shadows at bay, until eventually even that tiny flame had sputtered and died. 

See, this is what happened when you let your beer bottle get empty. You started thinking all poetic and stupid. Hell, you started thinking, full stop. Ray stood and looked morosely around the room. Didn’t help that this was Stell’s old apartment, either. She’d leased it to him when he crawled back to Chicago with his tail between his legs. If he hadn’t needed somewhere to stay so badly, he’d have told her where to stick it and given his mom a few stern words for telling the whole world he’d screwed up his love life again.

He walked through the memories and into the kitchen, where he had less reminders of Stella and more beer. Which kind of made it his favourite room right now. There was just that one time she’d invited him in for a beer and when she’d bent in front of the fridge he hadn’t been able to help himself. He’d pressed up behind her and before he’d even known what was happening he’d found himself deep inside her, with that beige linen skirt pushed up over her hips, her legs wound around his waist and her pretty ass on the edge of the counter. And God, it was like before, when she couldn’t get enough of him, when they went at it like animals any chance they got. She was so wet and warm and making those little whimpers that undid him like nothing else. And when she came. The power of it...

Ray slammed the fridge door hard enough to rattle the remaining beer bottles and stalked back to the couch. The pristine white couch that Stella had kept in storage since she fucked off with Vecchio to start a fucking bowling alley. He wondered again why Stella had kept all her furniture here, stored away, waiting for someone to need it. Did she expect to be back?

He took a deep pull at his cold beer and closed his eyes, sprawling back against the cool leather. He knew he was going to stick to it after a while, but right now it felt good against his shirtless back. He should crank the aircon, but the summer heat was reassuring. He didn’t ever want to be cold again. Too many memories that were fresh and reminded him what happened when you were frozen inside and let the shadows creep in and make themselves at home.

He really fucking hated being alone. He should go out, find a bar he hadn’t started a fight in since he got back and get shit faced in a crowd where he didn’t have to think about what he’d lost. Except he knew the only bars left were gay bars and he also knew that meant he’d find someone to fuck instead of someone to punch in the head. Which was probably a shit load worse right now, since he was trying to get his life to make some kind of sense.

He didn’t want to want men. It wasn’t good for him, wasn’t what he needed. He’d fought it for as long as he could remember. But Fraser had been there. He'd been so fucking open and willing and so very _not_ Stella. And because Ray'd had no light but that tiny candle, he’d let the shadows get him. It might have been love, but it wasn’t the bright, shining rightness that Stella had given him. There was no promise of growing old together, only survival. No holding hands in the park or stolen kisses in the mall. Hell, there hadn’t even been parks or malls, just endless wilderness and pokey, dusty little wooden stores run by nosey, small town gossips. Fraser had said it was cool, but Ray’d known it wasn’t. He’d seen the stares and heard the sudden, awkward silences when he walked up to a group of people.

So here he was again, alone with his beer and his hard cock, thinking about Stella when he should have been thinking about work, or finding someplace that didn’t hold memories to live in. What he should not have been doing was remembering the time Stella had pulled him through the doorway by his belt and pressed her soft body against his while she reminded him that this was a bad idea and that he couldn’t stay the night, but she needed him right now. He shouldn’t have been thinking about how good she smelled and how she stood straight and proud while she’d stripped naked and pushed him down on that very same couch. How she’d stared into his eyes as she sank down on him and started to grind. How she’d smiled at his strangled gasp when she rocked just the right way. She knew what she did to him and she knew she was the only woman who did.

Fuck! He didn’t need this. He was supposed to be over her, supposed to be moving forward with his life. He was never getting her back; hell, he didn’t even want her back if he was honest with himself. Which he was trying not to be, since what he wanted wasn’t even close to what he needed. There just wasn’t enough beer in the world for this.

He raised the bottle and chugged the rest of it down, trying to get drunk enough to fall into the giant bed that Stella had bought and left behind to mock him. He’d forgotten about the pizza he’d ordered and no longer wanted until a sharp rapping at the door reminded him.

He stood way more steadily than he wanted to and looked around for his wallet. “Be there in a minute” he called half heartedly toward the door. He patted his pockets and the knocking got louder.

“I don’t know about where you come from, but here we have these things called doorbells!” he shouted. Where the fuck was his wallet? Think, Kowalski. “Came in the door” he mumbled, “ took gun off,” he looked at the end table where his holster sat, “shirt off” arm of the chair in front of him, “emptied pockets.” Piano! Why the fuck did Stella think he’d want a piano. He could leave his shit on a table, like normal people. She should have left the stupid thing in storage. He pulled a few notes out and was almost to the door, but Dmitri was obviously in a hurry and was doing his best to bash the thing down now.

Ray turned the handle and yanked it open, “Keep your fucking hair on!”, he shouted and then stared in confusion. The guy in front of him had not kept his hair on. He wanted to laugh, or say something witty, but what fell out of his mouth was, “You’re not Dmitri.”

“Give the man a prize, “ Ray Vecchio sneered at him and pushed his way in holding a pizza box in one hand and a six pack under his arm. He looked pretty rough around the edges and Ray was maybe a little too drunk for this shit. There had to be a reason, right? The rumpled suit and the stubble and the slightly bloodshot eyes in front of him must mean something. The fact that Vecchio was even here must mean that whatever it was, it something was pretty big. He put on his menacing face and searched his brain for something snappy and cold to say. The best he could come up with was, “I already ordered pizza.”  His brain was all about the letting him down tonight.

“Yeah. This is that very same pizza. You owe me twenty bucks.” Vecchio waved ithe box at him. “You wanna tell me why you got Russian guys bringing you Italian food in the middle of the night?”

“Because even Sandor gets to have a life.” Ray snatched the box and stalked to the kitchen. He tossed the pizza and the bills in his hand on the counter and went to the fridge. He grabbed two beers before he even thought about it and then stood uncertainly for a moment. What was wrong with him? He hated this guy. This was the guy who stole his Stella. This was the guy who stole his light. And then it hit him. Something must be really, really wrong.

He took a deep breath, carefully placed the beers on the counter next to the pizza and told himself not to panic. He was doing fine until he turned and saw Vecchio standing there looking lost and trying not to. Ray couldn’t breathe and he pretended not to notice the high pitch of his voice as he asked, “Where’s Stella? What’s happened?” He bit his tongue a little to stop from asking the rest. If he didn’t say it out loud she might still be alright. His hands clenched into fists at his sides and he was on the balls of his bare feet, ready to run or fight or whatever when the bad news came.

Vecchio kind of slumped, like one of those giraffe toys he had when he was a kid. The ones with the strings inside and the bit at the bottom that you push to make it go floppy. He looked ridiculous sitting in Stella’s stupid red chair, hugging the six pack he’d bought with him. “She left me. Two weeks ago,” he said in a voice as pathetic as he looked.

Ray just stood there for what felt like far too long trying to figure out what that meant, and why he didn’t feel triumphant and hopeful and why he wasn’t doing a little dance and punching the air. Vecchio was sitting there making puppy eyes at him and that was all kinds of wrong and the fact that he suddenly didn’t want to kick the guy into next week was even wronger. He made a sound something like a laugh and Vecchio’s eyes hardened up some, like there was some fight left in him after all, but it disappeared when Ray said, “You poor bastard. Welcome to the club.” He picked up the beers and gave one to Vecchio, who looked at it like it was going to bite him, even though he was hugging six more just like it as if they were the only thing between him and drowning. And didn’t Ray know exactly how that felt?

“Just take it.” He said and Vecchio did as he was told, looking almost like he was grateful to be given some direction, and he only hesitated for a moment before he gave up the others when Ray tugged at them. For a guy who was together enough to pay for someone else’s pizza and then give him sass at the door, he wasn’t much with the attitude now.

As he went to put the beers away, Ray decided he could at least do his best to put differences aside for now, fly the white flag and be nice. He knew how much Stella could hurt a guy with her polite, “I’m sorry. It’s over,” speech.  So he’d give Vecchio tonight and see if he still hated the guy in the morning.

He picked up the pizza and went back to the couch, dropping the box on the coffee table. He nodded toward it, and Vecchio was at least aware enough to understand what he meant, because he shook his head and said. “Not hungry.”

Ray thought maybe he should make him eat, ‘cause Vecchio was skinny enough without starving himself, but then he thought about how that was something Fraser would say and about how he’d forgotten to eat for days after Stell dumped him and he just nodded. If the style pig didn’t want to eat, that was fine by Ray.

The silence was deafening. Vecchio just stared at him and Ray started to wonder if maybe he looked funny or something. He was getting that awkward thing where he didn’t know if he was sitting right or where any part of him was supposed to be, but he tried not to fidget. Eventually he couldn’t stay still any longer.

“You wanna talk about it?” he asked.

Vecchio opened his beer and took a drink and then shook his head. “How’s Benny?”

Ray stared hard, but if Vecchio was trying to be an asshole, he was hiding it well. “Fuck you, Vecchio.” He said and all of a sudden he couldn’t stop himself from laughing. How many times had other people said that to him?

Vecchio stiffened up some. “What’s so funny?” he asked with an edge to his voice that made the whole thing a little less funny, and when Ray looked at him, he could see a glint in Vecchio’s stupidly green eyes that reminded him this was a guy who probably had people’s bones broken for laughing at him a couple of years ago.

Still, he couldn’t kill the smile that came with his reply. “I got your life, then you got my life, now we both don’t got a life.” The huff he got back might have been a laugh if Vecchio wasn’t so damn miserable.

“I took Vegas to get away from him, you know.” Vecchio said to the rug.

“Figured as much,” Ray answered for it. “Guy gets under your skin, drives you nuts. Endangers your life for no reason and then makes you feel like you should thank him for it.”

“Well, yeah, but that’s not why.” Vecchio gave him a pointed look and for some reason, Ray was getting a little on the warm side.

“Why then?” he asked cautiously.

Vecchio took a good long drink and looked at his beer bottle. “My Dad was a drunk, you know. I don’t wanna end up like that.”

“So don’t.”

“I didn’t really drink much before Vegas. Some, but not much. But then I had to. For the cover.” He took another pull and Ray watched as Vecchio’s Adam’s apple bobbed with each swallow and felt a sudden need to drink himself.

“Undercover fucks with you, huh?”

Vecchio nodded absently as if that wasn’t the point he was trying to make. “I stopped right after. Never wanted it. But now... “ he stopped.

“Now you just want to get shit faced and not have to think about anything for a while and it scares you.” Ray finished for him. Vecchio just stared, but his eyes were saying a whole lot of “Yeah,” so Ray went on. “Don’t worry about it. When your life goes to shit, you need some down time. It’s normal.”

“For you maybe.” Vecchio replied and Ray almost got off the couch to pop him one.

“What the fuck’s that supposed to mean?”

“Calm down, Stanley. I just meant I don’t do that. Other people do, I don’t.”

“What else you don’t do is call me Stanley again. Got it?” Ray cracked his neck and held his breath for a heartbeat, waiting to see if he was going to have make Vecchio feel some real, physical pain.

“You really hate that, don’t you?” there were those green eyes, staring again, making his skin kinda itch.

“I go by Ray.”

“So you keep saying and so do I, so you can see how maybe it’s a little weird to be calling _you_ Ray.”

“Fuck. Kowalski then, I don’t care. But if you call me Stanley again I’ll stab you to death with a spoon or something.” He pointed for emphasis.

Vecchio grinned. It was odd how his whole face changed when he did that, like a light went on in there somewhere and came shining out of his eyes. “Deal.” He said and downed the rest of his beer. “If I’m going to turn into a lush, I may as well get on with it.” And he got up and went to the fridge. “Jesus! You get a bulk deal on these or something?” he called out.

Ray turned and watched Vecchio walk back with two more beers. Strange how he’d never noticed there was a grace to the guy, even now when he looked like shit warmed over. “Nah. Just easier to get a couple cases at a time. Better than making a run for more when you’ve had a few.”

This time when Vecchio sat down, he did it with ease, leaning back and crossing one leg high up on the other, ankle on thigh. Ray didn’t know where to look, between Vecchio’s throat swallowing and the way his pants hugged the family jewels. Easier to look away. So Ray drank some more and draped himself along the couch with his head on the arm rest, both feet flat on the cushions and his knees raised to alleviate some of the tightness of jeans. A couple of months was too long without real sex if he was reacting like this to a guy he wanted to beat to a bloody pulp. He stared at the ceiling and wondered why Vecchio was here and when he was going to leave.

As if the guy was a mind reader he blurted. “Look, I’m sorry I just turned up like this. I had to get away for a while. I went home, but then I couldn’t deal with Frannie and the kids and Ma and the questions. So I came here.”

“Ok. No kids or sisters or parents here, but there will be questions.” Ray rolled his head to the side.

“Yeah,” Vecchio sighed and his shoulders slumped again. “Get it over with already.”

Ray sat up again, leaning forward and letting the beer dangle from one hand between his knees. It only took a moment to decide what to ask first. “What’d you do?”

Vecchio looked surprised. “About what?”

“Not about what. What did you do to make her leave.”

Vecchio raised his hands, like he was under arrest or something. “Nothing!” he protested. “I did everything she wanted, I never even looked at another woman.”

“You look at guys?” Ray asked, trying to keep the sly grin out of his voice.

Vecchio looked confused for a split second, then something obviously dawned on him. “You did that, huh?”

“What? No!” Ray saw the disbelief in Vecchio’s eyes. “No,” he said again. “I do guys, yeah. Well, I did a guy, but not when I was with Stella. She was...” he searched for the right word, “everything.”

Vecchio nodded. “Everything, yeah.”

“Which is the problem.”

“How can that be the problem?” Vecchio asked. “Stella isn’t the bad boy type.”

“Yeah she is. Just not the rough ‘em up , treat ‘em mean to keep ‘em keen bad boy type. She likes her guys powerful and dangerous but, you know...” he waved his hand, looking for the right word.

“Civilized?” Vecchio supplied.

Ray pointed at him . “Civilized.”

Vecchio looked doubtfully at Ray, obviously taking in his worn out jeans, shirtless torso and tattoo. “No offense, Kowalski, but how on earth did you catch her?”

“You’re a funny guy.” Ray smiled, trying not to feel the slight disappointment of Vecchio’s opinion. “Thing is, I was respectable once. Just looked a little wild. There was the cop thing and the uniform thing, which she got over pretty quick. Then there was the detective thing, which had some juice for a few months. It was the undercover thing that really did it for her, though. I’d come home after being the bad guy all day and she could see it on me. It got her hot.”

Vecchio looked like maybe he was taking it all in, storing it away for later. “What went wrong then?”

“Bad case. There was this kid... I got shot. Don’t wanna talk about it.”

“So what? You stop going under?”

“Yeah. That one broke me for a while. After that I was too tame for her. No power, no danger. She left and then when you went to Vegas I thought, “Hey, maybe this is how I get her back?” But pretending to be another cop was a pretty lame ass attempt.”

Vecchio laughed. “Another cop that was so pathetic they gave him a Mountie as a partner.” There was some bitterness there, Ray thought.

“Huh. I thought you got stuck with him ‘cause you were the only one who could put up with him.”

Vecchio’s smile was warm and genuine. “Maybe that, too.” He said.

They were silent for a while then, strangely comfortable and Ray felt a little less lonely. Warmer even. He turned to Vecchio, thinking about small talk, but it died in his throat when he saw those fucking eyes staring at him. Not at his face though. Vecchio didn’t even realize Ray was looking at him. No, Ray Vecchio, the Guy That Stole Stella was checking him out. Ray knew what that look was, he’d gotten pretty good at avoiding guys who looked at him like that over the years. What he didn’t know was why he was thinking about not running this time, when this was the worst guy he could possibly go there with.

“So.” He said and gave a bright smile when Vecchio jumped and looked up, guilt and horror written all over his face. “You and Frase. You ever...?” he let it trail off, knowing the answer, but wanting to get some kind of admission from Vecchio about his intentions here.

“You’re kidding me, right?” Vecchio asked. “Benny was my friend. My partner. Why do you think I took the Vegas job?”

“You didn’t want to? ‘Cause I gotta say, you’re mad. The guy’s got skills if you know what I’m saying. And he’s easy on the eye.”

Vecchio's face hardened. “Don’t talk about Benny like that!” he warned, “He’s not a piece of meat.”

Ray sagged. “Look, sorry. That came out wrong, ok? You think the last two years was casual?”

“Then you should know Benny and me never, you know.”

“Fucked?” Ray grinned. “I know.”

“Then why ask?”

“You’re a cop, Vecchio.”

“Not anymore.”

“Whatever, that’s not the point. You should know you get more answers asking dumb questions than smart ones.”

“You’re not just a pretty face, Kowalski.”

“Nah. My ass is pretty good, too.” Ray drained his beer and got up. He could feel Vecchio’s eyes on him, checking to see if he was exaggerating. “Want more?” he called over his shoulder.

There was silence for a moment and then Vecchio’s voice, all rough and unexpectedly sexy came back to him. “I shouldn’t.” And Ray knew he was on the right track, knew Vecchio wasn’t only talking about beer. He also knew that he shouldn’t either, any of it, but right now he was either drunk enough or broken enough not to care. Didn’t matter which. He just needed to clear a few things up.

He had to do some things right, even if the whole situation was going to hell in a handcart. He handed Vecchio his new beer and cursed those eyes, boring into him and making his cock hard. Damn Vecchio for noticing and looking at him like something he wanted to eat.

“Hey!” he barked, startling Vecchio back to reality. “How drunk are you?” he asked.

“Not drunk enough.”

“How many did you have before you got here? ‘Cause you’ve been really putting it away since you rocked up.”

“What are you, Kowalski, the beer police?”

“Nah, just the regular kind.”

“So what does it matter to you?”

Ray wondered briefly if he should push this, but figured it didn’t matter which way it all went down. If he was wrong, Vecchio would hit the roof, maybe sock him one and Ray’d get a fight and get Vecchio out of his life for good. If he was right. Well he’d get laid and probably a whole lot of regret when he sobered up. But that was one of those bridges he could cross when he came to it. Right now it was win, win.

He moved closer. Maybe those stupid red chairs that didn’t match the couch weren’t so stupid after all because Vecchio’s face was real close to Ray’s belly button now and Ray saw his eyes flick down, his tongue dart out nervously, but Vecchio didn’t pull away.

“I don’t want to make a play for a guy who’s too far gone to get hard for me.”

The sharp intake of breath was exhilarating to Ray. He’d never hit on a guy that wasn’t a sure thing before. Until Fraser he’d stayed as far away from going down that road as possible. And this might be the baddest in a long line of bad decisions, but he had to know. Had to find out if he’d been kidding himself with Stella, trying so hard to be straight that he believed she was the only right thing in his world.

He went back to the couch, adjusted himself in his jeans and watched Vecchio watching him as he sat down. Poor guy was sitting over there, looking like he’d just seen a ghost. But Ray was pretty good with body language; he could see the signs of arousal, clear as day, and he didn’t even need to see Vecchio shifting in his chair to know he was feeling some pressure in the groinal region.

“So, Vegas. You went there so you didn’t make a pass at the Mountie.” It wasn’t a question because it was pretty obvious to Ray that a guy like Vecchio didn’t want to want guys any more than he did himself. Only Vecchio probably didn’t feel the loneliness like Ray did. So he did the smart thing and got out of Dodge.

It took a while, but eventually Vecchio nodded. He was staring at the rug again now; like it was a priest and he could say anything to it and the rest of the world would never know. And just like that his mouth started to run.

“It’s easy when you’re a kid, you know. You think about sex all the time and you don’t know right away that it’s wrong to think about guys as well as girls. It’s not until you hear all the other guys talking and they’re only talking about girls. Then there was this kid, Frankie Caffarelli. He said the wrong thing to the wrong guy, I don’t know exactly, but he didn’t come to school for about a month. When he did come back, everyone was calling him faggot and fairy and giving him a real hard time. I didn’t, but I didn’t do anything, either, you know. I was good at doing nothing back then. 

Anyway, one day he just stopped coming to school and Ma told us at dinner that he hung himself in the basement of his house.” He looked at Ray, there was a hardness in eyes now, a glint that sent chills over Ray’s skin and killed his hard-on fast.

“Who tells a kid something like that over dinner? But the worst part? My Dad, probably on his fifth whiskey, looks right at me and says, “One less homosexual in the world. Good riddance.”

“That’s fucked up, right there.” Ray said.

Vecchio nodded, took a good long drink and looked ruefully at the bottle. “Like I said, I don’t wanna end up like my old man.”  He looked Ray dead in the eye. “You think maybe Stella isn’t the bad boy type after all? You think maybe she goes for the gays?”

Ray choked on his beer. In between splutters and gasps he managed to think about that for a second. When he got it together he managed a raspy, “Civilized.”

Vecchio curled the corners of his mouth up, but the shine wasn’t in his eyes this time, he just looked tired. “Point is, it was there, I pretended it wasn’t and went for the girls I couldn’t have, or the ones I didn’t care whether I got or not. You read the rap sheet. Good Italian boy. “

Ray ran his fingers through his hair. He wished Vecchio had just hit him. That would have been easier to take than the guilt trip. But then Vecchio was raised Catholic, so guilt was something he was good at.

“Look, sorry, man. I got it wrong. I just thought you were maybe lonely, with the whole Stella gone thing and no Fraser. I know how it feels and I thought maybe I could make it go away for a little while.”He shrugged. “I was wrong. Sorry.” He said again.

“No you weren’t.” Vecchio said in a voice like sandpaper and nails. “I’m just telling you how it is with me. I thought maybe Benny didn’t go much for girls and the temptation was too much, you know.  But you see stuff in Vegas that makes you think, and don’t even get me started on Florida. I probably should have stayed and faced what was coming. So you got my life in more ways than you knew.”

He drained his beer, put the empty on the table and got up for another. “I only had one beer, by the way. Stopped at a bar a few blocks down, but the bartender was giving off some weird vibes. Tried to feed me some herbal thing, said it would make me feel better. Guy was kinda creepy. So I got some for the road and here I am, and I’m not too far gone. ”

It took Ray a minute to work out that Vecchio was answering his question, finally. The guy was worse than Fraser for talking in circles. Had to give you some “back in the day” story before he gave you what you wanted. He counted the bottles. So this’d be five all up. And he’d had six, but then he was used to more some nights.

“Your shout.” He called, but Vecchio was back already and handing him another cold one.  

“Can’t you afford the utilities or something?” Vecchio asked, tugging at his tie.

“Hey, I like being warm. It’s a novelty.” Ray grinned up and Vecchio put his beer down, pulled off his jacket and tie and did the Fraser thing, draping them carefully over the back of a chair.

Then he rolled up his sleeves and came to sit by Ray, thigh to thigh, just like it was the most natural thing in the world. Ray could smell his aftershave and feel his warmth through the silk shirt and suddenly this wasn’t easy anymore. This was getting a bit scary because it felt good and the cards were on the table and it was pretty clear that all he was going to get here was a whole lot less than he’d had with Fraser. This was a guy he barely knew and had spent a couple years hating on principle. A guy that had been doing the straight thing his whole life, had even been married to his own ex-wife for fucks sake. A guy who was no way going to offer him anything more than tonight, if he even went through with that. Hell, if Stella had been the sun and Fraser was a candle, this had to be like a glow worm or something.  

He bumped Vecchio with his elbow. Vecchio bumped him back. It was the closest thing to companionship he’d had since long before he’d broken up with Fraser and he felt pretty ratty having to wreck the mood, but he had things to say and he knew he wouldn’t if he just let the moment go.

“Just... If we do this, and I’m not saying it’s a sure thing, but if we do, you gotta know some stuff, ok?”

Vecchio just groaned at him, but didn’t pull away or object, so he took a deep breath and threw himself into it.

“Me and Frase, we did everything, you know.”

“Thanks, I needed to know that. “ The sarcasm just dripped from Vecchio’s voice.

“I’m not being an ass, you just gotta know that I know what I’m doing and I know what I like. I’m not gonna fuck around doing a bit of this and a bit of that when I don’t know where my next fuck is coming from. Also? We do this? I’m done with Stella and Fraser and all the bullshit that goes with them. You can be here in the morning or not, whatever. Stay the whole weekend if you want. Point is, I don’t wanna talk about them anymore. I don’t wanna think about them and I don’t wanna know if you do. Got it?”

“If you say so, Kowalski.”

“I’m not kidding around here. I mean it. I am doneski. I am moving forward and I am not looking back. This is me doing that.”

“Ok already. I get it.”

“Good. Just sayin’, you know. Had to get it out there, just in case.”

“Fine. Feel better now?” There was humour in that voice and Ray looked over to find himself being smiled at, really smiled at, like he was the most happy making thing in Vecchio’s world. Which he probably was at this precise moment and that should be a sad thing, but somehow it wasn’t.

They sat like that for a while. Ray didn’t know if maybe Vecchio was thinking it through, or if the guy was too wasted to think much at all. All he knew for sure was that the warm body next to him and the beer was making him horny. If something didn’t happen soon, he was going to have to excuse himself and do something about it. He shifted in his seat and that must have been enough, because Vecchio made an impatient noise and turned to him. “For a guy who knows what he likes and knows what he’s doing, you suck at making the first move, you know that?”

Ray felt the grin cross his face and saw Vecchio’s answering one, bright and real and sparkly. He only hesitated long enough to really notice that even though Vecchio was pretty much bald and looking worse for wear these days, there was _something_ , and it worked for him.

He hauled up further on the couch and straddled Vecchio’s thighs, popping the button on his jeans and easing the zipper down a little, just to ease the pressure. Vecchio sat there, wide eyed and breathing a little heavy, clearly nervous, but his pupils were huge and he was already moving his hands up to Ray’s waist, tentative and curious.

Ray leaned in and went for Vecchio’s neck. He’d been watching him drink, wondering what it’d be like and now he was there, grazing his teeth over it and losing himself in the rumble of Vecchio’s groan and the musky scent of his aftershave.

Vecchio’s hands on his waist were strong, holding him there like maybe he was getting ready to send him flying if things went bad. But Ray was cool with that, he was in the moment and he could tell this was not going to go bad anytime soon. He moved his head, open mouthed, and let his lips feel the rough of stubble as he searched for Vecchio’s mouth. This was the test, right here. If Vecchio could kiss him, really get into it, then the fucking would be easy.  The kissing was the thing that had freaked Ray out in the beginning. Fucking was sex, but kissing was being intimate. With another guy.

He pressed his mouth to Vecchio’s, let the tip of his tongue out just a touch, and waited for what felt like too long before he felt Vecchio give in and open his own mouth. Ray felt wild with the thrill of getting something right for a change, but he couldn’t just run with it. He knew this was make or break here and he had to let Vecchio set the pace for a while.

And there it was! Vecchio had his tongue in Ray’s mouth now and was moving against him, one hand pulling his hips closer, the other sliding up to Ray’s head, holding him in and Holy Fuck, this guy could kiss. Ray loved kissing, could do it for hours if it was good, but there was an art to it that most people just didn’t get. But Vecchio? He knew his stuff, knew you had to mean it and you had to read the other person and most of all you had to know how to use what God gave you. And if the tongue in his mouth was any clue, this guy knew.

He was getting lost in it, the give and take of it, and he knew he was making some dumb sounds, but if Vecchio knew he was doing good, he’d keep going, wouldn’t he? But he stopped. Not suddenly or anything, he just pulled away and rested his head on the back of the couch with his eyes closed. His hands were still on Ray, still holding on, and he was breathing like he was halfway through a marathon. And he looked so fucking hot, all rumpled silk and olive skin. And the look on his face, like relief or something. This satisfied half smile that had Ray thinking maybe Vecchio had liked kissing him a little _too_ much.

“What?” Ray asked. “Why are we stopping?”  Vecchio opened his eyes and they were about three shades darker than before, but shiny with need and they were doing stuff to Ray’s cock that only hands and mouths had a right to do.

“Oh, we’re not stopping.” Vecchio said. “you just need to get off me.”

“Yeah? What if I don’t want to?”

“Then nobody’s pants are coming off, are they?” 

Ray didn’t need to think about it. He was off and heading for the bedroom before Vecchio could change his mind. He took a moment to be grateful Fraser had been anal about making the bed first thing, because it was a habit that came in handy when you were taking someone there for the first time.

He stood awkwardly in the doorway, staring at the dark blue linen and wondering if this was maybe too real, moving it to a bed instead of just doing what came to mind out there on the couch.

He turned back, but Vecchio was right behind him, kicking off his shoes and undoing his belt as he walked.  Ray could see why the guy needed to get his pants off. He was packing serious heat right there.

Ray walked backwards until his thighs hit the side of the bed. He stood then, taking his zipper all the way down, but not moving to drop his jeans. If Vecchio wanted them off, he could make it happen. Ray wasn’t going to spook him. He gave his cock a little love through the vee in front and watched as Vecchio took his shirt off, looked around and dropped it right there on the floor.

He would have said something about it getting crushed, but Ray was too busy looking. Vecchio was hairier than he was used to and he was skinny, sure, but he was broad shouldered and he was wiry and that trail of hair led down into the waist of his pants like it was going somewhere worth being. And then Vecchio was right in front of him, close enough to touch but not moving anymore. “Are you gonna make me do all the work?” He asked.

“I just... it’s not too much? You know, I don’t want to scare you off.”

Vecchio laughed. “You can’t be that stupid. Have you seen the front of my pants lately?”

Ray looked down and reached for the button. He leaned in for a kiss as he undid Vecchio’s pants, pushing them down and coming back up for the boxers. Of course they were silk. But the fabric felt warm and good under his fingers and he thought about how good that must feel against a cock so he ran his fingertips up Vecchio’s hard-on, just enough to make the silk move and Vecchio gasped and pushed into the touch.

Long fingers came up to the back of Ray’s neck again, swirling over the short hairs there and raising goosebumps all the way down Ray’s spine. He shuddered and pushed Vecchio’s shorts down, not waiting for him to kick them off before he pushed him back a little and dropped to his knees. He looked up just long enough to see that Vecchio wasn’t going to stop him and then he ran his tongue up the length of Vecchio’s cock, just to make it a little wet before he took the head in and sucked gently. Ray figured it had been a while since Vecchio had his cock sucked. That was the first thing to go when Stella lost interest. He also knew he was damned good at this and he was going to make sure Vecchio knew it, too.

He gave a swirl with his tongue and settled down to business. He couldn’t help but notice the differences from the only other cock he’d ever sucked. This one was longer, but also thinner, although not by much. Enough so that he wouldn’t get caught in memories, enough so that he knew exactly whose cock was leaking into his mouth, tasting of sex like nothing else could.

Vecchio was liking it so far, Ray could tell. He liked getting feedback like this. The hand tightening on the back of his neck, the gasp and the tremble of the thighs in front of him. He loved this, the give and take, the submission and the power. 

He could feel Vecchio’s hands, firm on his head, but not forcing anything, and the poor guy was trying not to thrust, but Ray could feel the tension in his thighs, his ass cheeks. He was practically vibrating with it. It wouldn’t be long now. He’d take him to the edge and then stop.

But Vecchio pulled away from him, shuffled backward and held Ray’s head away like he thought maybe Ray was going to bite him. His breathing was harsh and Ray could see the dim light glistening on the wetness of his cock.

Ray got to his feet, slower than he would have liked, and gave Vecchio his best angry stare.  “Hey. I was enjoying that.”

Vecchio shook his head a little, squeezed his eyes shut for a second and seemed to pull himself together. “It’s too fast,” he said sheepishly, “There’s no hurry.”

Ray grinned. He was liking this, being the one in control for a change. He knew how it felt the first time. The nerves only made you feel everything so much more intensely. “If you can’t take it, we could just do the handjob thing.” He half joked.

Vecchio at least took it the right way. Ray could see the moment he recognized the dare and accepted it. He couldn’t help but admire the guy for his follow through.

“Fuck you, Kowalski.” He grinned and reached for Ray’s jeans.

“Thought you’d never ask.” Ray replied and shucked out of the tight denim and his shorts in one quick and entirely ungraceful go.  When he looked up again, Vecchio was trying hard to appear unruffled, but not really succeeding.

Ray thought about saying something to ease him into this, but talking just made him think about stuff, so he decided action spoke louder than words right now. He took Vecchio’s head in his hands and, careful not to make contact below the waist, kissed him. He put everything into it and tried not to think about what was going to happen next. He wanted Vecchio to think there was nothing more important than this right now.  Wanted him back to where he was comfortable.

It didn’t take long before Ray was being treated to a pornographic soundtrack. When Vecchio let go, it seemed he really let go. Ray pulled back, but Vecchio went with him and pushed closer, putting his hands low on Ray’s hips and then around to his ass. There was a moment of hesitation, almost no pressure and no movement; maybe a second where the air got thick with tension, and then Vecchio pulled him in and pushed his full length against Ray.

His own pleasure at the contact was nothing compared to Vecchio’s if the guys reaction was anything to go on. He went rigid all over and gasped against Ray’s mouth and Ray knew how it was, knew Vecchio needed a moment to let it go, so he released his lips and went for the neck instead, sliding his hands down to Vecchio’s shoulders. He nuzzled up to his ear and whispered, “Feels good, huh?” He felt Vecchio relax a little and even give his hips a tiny thrust, like he was trying to be polite or something, but Ray wasn’t having that on his watch. He nipped Vecchio’s earlobe and murmured, “You need to stop, you tell me. No pressure. But your cock feels so good,” and there was that gasp again, “I’m just gonna go with the flow now, man, so you should too.”

He felt Vecchio nod, but no sound came out, so he reached between them and took both their cocks in his hand, holding them together and stroking slowly. It was awkward, but that didn’t seem to matter to Vecchio, he was zoned out or something, head back, eyes closed and his mouth slightly open, but at least he was breathing deep and slow, like a guy who had it all under control. Ray watched his face, loosened his grip and started a slow thrust, letting his cock do the work for him and oh, yeah, Vecchio was blissing out on this.

He walked them back a step and then sat on the edge of the bed, letting go and scooting back. He wanted to go straight for the drawer where he kept the condoms and lube on the off chance he’d get some action, but that seemed like pushing his luck, so he just rolled onto his side and waited for Vecchio to catch up. He didn’t have to wait long.

Ray let himself be rolled on his back, even managed to be still when Vecchio wrapped his long fingers around his cock. No way was he gonna be silent though. He might have said, “Yeah” or he could have just been thinking it and making some nonsense sound, but it seemed to be encouraging because Vecchio firmed his grip and started to make Ray think he’d maybe done this before.

Somewhere in his head he knew this wasn’t what he wanted, and maybe he managed to ask for more, or maybe Vecchio was on the same train here, but right about when he should, Vecchio stretched out next to Ray and looked at him with heavy lidded, lust darkened eyes and said, “So.”

Ray rolled to face him and investigated the hair on Vecchio’s chest with one fingertip. “So.” He said back.

Vecchio smiled and raised his eyebrows like he was waiting for something, so Ray bit the proverbial bullet and got right to the point. “Wanna fuck me?” he asked as casually as he could.

Give Vecchio some credit here. The panic that crossed his face was locked down pretty quick and he even sounded relaxed when he said, “Want me to?”

“Hell yes!” Ray laughed and rolled away to get the supplies. He saw the uncertainty when the stuff bounced on the mattress, but it was cool, he knew, because Vecchio could do this and his cock was still looking as into it as it had been back when it was in Ray’s mouth.

“So I can get me ready or you can, whatever.” Ray said and then flinched. That sounded way too cold and clinical. Not sexy in any language.

Vecchio gave it some serious thought for about half a second and said, “I’ll give it a shot.” Which didn’t sound encouraging to Ray, because this wasn’t something you just went at, like swimming. This was more like playing with fire crackers; there were consequences if you fucked it up.

 “You know what you’re doing here?” Ray asked in what he hoped was a flirty voice and not a nervous one.

“Thought I’d just go with the flow.” Vecchio grinned and Ray flinched a little.

“Relax, Kowalski. I’m not clueless. Start slow, one finger at a time.”

Ray breathed again. “Doesn’t take me long. Maybe you should suit up first, I’m not good at waiting.” He took his cock in hand for emphasis and got a kick out of the way Vecchio licked his lips and stared.

“Yeah.” He said and reached blindly for the foil packet. He patted the bed a few times before he managed to drag his eyes away and find the damned thing.  

Ray watched and admired Vecchio’s elegant hands on that long, hard cock. He knew it was going to feel a whole better tahn it looked. Suddenly he didn’t know where to put himself. Front? Back? He thought maybe it’d be easier for Vecchio if he didn’t have a cock in his face while he was doing this, so he went with face down. Before he got there, he got pulled back and manhandled onto his back. This guy had some strength. Probably came from lugging around bowling balls all day.

Vecchio picked up the lube and asked, “How much of this do you use?”

“Doesn’t matter. You can always add more and I don’t mind if things get a bit wet.” Ray watched Vecchio’s fingers shake as he flipped the lid. Maybe he should be doing more to make this easy on him, but it seemed like Vecchio didn’t want to be coddled through this and Ray had to admire him for it.

When the first finger went in, Ray gave a sigh and closed his eyes. Vecchio had the right idea, slow and steady and maybe he hadn’t done this before, maybe he had, but whether it was blissful ignorance or practiced ease, he didn’t hesitate. He moved in and out smoothly and every now and then he found the sweet spot.

Ray felt his erection flag a little, like it always did at first and he made sure to say, “Oh yeah.” And “That’s it” a couple times just so Vecchio knew he was getting it right. He didn’t even need to tell the guy when to go for more, he’d just got to thinking that he wanted it and there was the next finger. Ray discovered he was into guys who didn’t over think stuff. In a big way.

He opened his eyes and was hit with the sight of Vecchio, flushed and breathing hard and staring at his fingers in Ray’s ass like he’d just seen the light.

“Fuck me,” Ray rasped.

Vecchio said, “yeah,” in a vague way and moved between Ray’s legs slowly, letting his fingers come free reluctantly. He looked a little lost until Ray lifted his legs up hooked first one, then the other over Vecchio’s shoulders.

“Jesus.” Vecchio said and Ray wondered if that was a curse or a prayer just as he felt the head of his cock press home. He struggled to keep his eyes open. He wanted to see Vecchio’s face when he felt this. He wasn’t disappointed. That was the face of a man who'd seen the light right there. The face of a man who wasn’t thinking about technique or looking good. He was into it and Ray urged him on with words and hands.

Vecchio responded perfectly, thrusting deep and slow, changing the angle of his thrust every now and then until Ray cried out and reached for his own cock. “Fuck yeah, do that. Do me like that.”

 From the way Vecchio groaned and went faster, Ray knew the angle was just as good for both of them. He could hear Vecchio’s breathing get ragged, but he was so close himself that he knew Vecchio would get him there first. He was there already, just waiting for that one perfect... yeah, that one. And he was over the edge, falling into who knew what and thrumming with it. He heard his whimpers and felt his come landing on his chest, but it was dim and distant compared to the feel of Vecchio, still pushing impossibly deep inside him and saying “Holy fuck, Kowalski.” as he went still and shook with his own release.

He didn’t know what was going to happen next. Didn’t know who’d feel the regret first. But as Vecchio pulled out of him and collapsed on the bed, Ray found he didn’t care. This was him moving on. And if he had to do that in the dark, that was suddenly fine by him.

Who needed Stella anyway?


End file.
